When on that summer night under your wings,
The feaces in which I travelled expelled,
My fingers though without the royal rings,
Your greetings, doubts of royalty dispelled.
Though troubles in you may heave like sea waves,
Your snaky paths lead to my spring of life.
Explosions may pull down your huts and caves,
The tri colour garment adorn my wife.
When on that beautiful and final day,
The ship beyond the seven seas anchor,
And end comes in pain and passion my way,
Your confluence would sail me to harbour.
You are all I am and ever would be,
And so then you are life and death to me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it, a great write.